


A Story Made Out of the Building Blocks of the Heart

by Hallianna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I blame a friend for this, Implied Relationships, background Dorian/Iron Bull, first story in a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: In the aftermath of the destruction of Kirkwall's Chantry, Varric finds himself as part of the Inquisition and brings in his old friend Hawke to help out. But things are more complicated now - both with the state of the world and how Varric feels about Hawke.Hawke has never dared to breathe a word to anyone on how she feels about Varric. And of course, the Inquisition would throw her into the same place as a frighteningly observant Ben-Hassrath spy who picks it out instantly.So what do they do now? It's hard to deny what the heart wants.Playlist is here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3j9H5HnqCEOlXwXcxZ0qGL?si=DOs6EC77SdWxuVjeDMz5-w
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 59
Kudos: 84





	1. Regret

“So. Bianca.”

The side eye Varric gave her over the rim of his tankard would have withered the weak-willed. Or anyone, really….except her. She knew him too well. He pulled the tankard away and wiped the foam off his upper lip. “Okay, get it over with.”

She waved a hand at him, paying no mind to the flapping of the loose bandage around her hand. Varric winced for her. “Nothing to ‘get over’. Just wanted to see how you were.”

The side eye narrowed but he flicked a finger in the air, motioning to Stuart for another round. “Hawke, you know I love you dearly but you have never, _ever_ let anything remotely personal in any of our lives pass without judgment. Not when Merrill decided to become the one and only Lowtown chicken farmer, not when Isabela and Fenris started sleeping together, and not even when Anders-” He froze and cast a worried glance at her. But she was watching Stuart expertly serve up two more frothy ales. 

After a few moments, she grinned at him, his slip up either ignored or forgotten. “Are you telling me you didn’t judge any of that?”

“Pffft, of course I did. I just didn’t say it out loud, all the time.”

“No, you only voiced your judgments to me over drinks.” She checked a grin and leaned in conspiratorially. “Many, many times, late at night, in your suite.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Are you inferring ungentlemanly conduct on my part? Serrah Hawke, you fiend.”

She just chuckled. “So. Bianca.”

And Varric couldn’t help but groan.

After a few more moments with new ales firmly in place and the empty ones whisked away, Hawke spun on her stool to stare at her old, old friend. “No pushing, no prying. Just checking on you.” She ducked her head, dark brown bob of hair sliding forward and covering her face until he could only see the tip of her nose and the ends of her long eyelashes.

 _Well, fuck. Good one, old boy._ “Stuart, we’re taking these to go. And uh, be sure to charge these to the Inquisitor’s account, he’s good for it.” He stood and motioned toward Hawke. “Let’s get out of here for somewhere with a better view.”

Amused, Hawke watched Varric slide both tankards off the edge of the bar in one hand, while he flipped Stuart a gold piece with the other. “Going to give me the grand Skyhold tour? Say it isn’t so.”

Varric grinned. “I’ll even show you the room I haven’t told the Inquisitor about yet.”

* * *

Hawke set her now empty tankard down on the arm of a massive stone chair before brushing aside some cobwebs trying to tangle around her wrist. “What is - was - this place?”

Varric set his tankard down on the other arm. “No idea. Honestly, it was stupid luck I found it to begin with. I was trying to talk the kid and Buttercup down off the roof cause their game of skipping stones across the slate tiles was riling Nightingale’s birds and driving Sparkler insane.” He paused at Hawke’s blank look. “In order, Cole, Sera, Leliana, and Dorian.”

“Ah, got it. I think.” 

“So by the time I got up to the roof, I noticed some of the pebbles they were flinging kept sliding off one side, but the roof and the wall didn’t match up quite right. So I kept poking around -”

That made her grin. “You? Nosy?”

“Ha. Ha ha ha. Anyways, long story short….” He held up a finger at her just as she started to speak. “No comment from the peanut gallery.” But he had to laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “I followed a bunch of walls and weird stairwells and came to the spot where the wall and roof were weird and just kept pressing on things until this happened.” He pressed his palm to a dark spot on the stone wall, and a door swung open behind where Hawke was standing. “And voila. Of course, I pressed a spot in that room and the room we’re in now was on the other side, but you get the point.”

“I was always a sucker for secret passages.” She ducked to look through the door into the darkness beyond. “What’s through there?”

He came to stand beside her, boots making only soft scuffling sounds on the cold stone floor. “More dark, more cobwebs, and a curiously empty room. And since I’ve written about many a secret passage and dark, creepy room in my day, I knew it wasn’t just some storage area.” 

“Well, that’s fun and all but I much prefer this room. There’s got to be secrets in here.” She hopped into the stone chair and swung her legs over one arm, narrowing missing the tankard. “Or, is this your little secret place, Varric? Somewhere to come and brood?”

Varric had moved to one of the massive stone bookcases and was perusing the faded spines, but he glared at her over his shoulder. “I don’t _brood_. You need a white haired elf for that, and last I heard he was busy killing Venatori.”

“He writes every now and then. I think part of it is to make sure I don’t worry, and the other to keep his skills up.” Hawke dug around in her coat and Varric heard the rustle of papers. “Ah, here we go.” She tossed a mangled envelope at him and even as it sailed through the air, he could see a worrisome bit of dried blood on the corner of the paper. “Latest one, from about two months ago.”

“And the blood?”

“My guess is someone who ran into the wrong end of his sword.”

Varric tucked the letter into his pocket. “Bedtime reading then.” He leaned against the bookcase and let his head thunk against the stone. “So. Ask. I know I’ve been avoiding.”

There was a long moment of silence that felt like it stretched out, thin and ephemeral, between them. Her leathers creaked as she sat up, then forward, elbows on her knees, hands steepled under her chin. “Dodging is the better word, but I don’t blame you. I’m sure you could tell me all about it if you wanted. But I want to know how my friend is. Truly.”

He closed his eyes, feeling the churn in his gut at even the thought of Bianca. “There’s a lot of history there. I know I told you a little bit but…. _fuck_ , it’d been years since I’d seen her. We’re not supposed to be within a continent of each other and she just strolls in here like it’s no big deal there’s a price on our heads if we’re spotted together by the wrong people. The fucking _gall._ ”

“So, not a warm reunion then?”

He cracked an eye open but she hadn’t moved, and there was no humor on her face. Just deep set green eyes watching him carefully, the nick in her eyebrow giving her that constant slightly sarcastic expression he’d come to know and love. His heart gave a little jolt as their gazes collided - the same jolt he always got when she turned the charm off and focused everything she had on one target. 

“No, not a warm reunion. I was angry, and hurt. But it gets all tied up with what we had - could have had, if she’d not been so selfish and stupid all that time ago.” He could feel the weight of her, on him, over him, until memories of their often hurried couplings went hazy with other emotions - anger, betrayal, rejection, grief, sadness. 

_“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Bianca.”_

_She’d turned to him, face lit by the flickering firelight and the shadow of her own surprise. “Well, considering we did it twice before we ever made the bedroom, I’d recommend not doing it on a hard wood floor anymore, sure.”_

_He’d grunted in frustration and ran a hand down his face. “No, this...us. Not again. Never again. I can’t keep doing this.”_

_She’d studied him for a long moment, then laughed, head thrown back. “Oh come on, Varric. It’s sex. We see each other, what….once a year? Maybe? So we meet, we fuck, we go our separate ways. It’s not - “_

_“An affair. Me and you fucking. Lying. Having an AFFAIR.” He’d begun pulling on his boots, nearly snapping the laces in his anger. “No more.”_

_Bianca had crossed arms, her face gone serious, the laughter dead on her lips. “Years, Varric. We’ve been doing this for years and now you have a crisis of conscience? Fucking hypocrite.”_

_He’d jammed his arms into his coat, smoothed down his hair. “Yeah, well, bully for me. I suggest you find another toy, or better yet, go tell your husband you love him.” And for impact, he’d yanked open the door, slammed it shut, and heard it thud in a satisfying way. “Never again, you stupid bastard,” he’d muttered to himself before righting his coat and striding off into the night._

He closed his eyes again, forcing the thoughts away. The oily coil of guilt in his gut threatened to make him nauseated. “Damn, we should have brought a bottle down with us if I knew it was going to get this personal,” he said. “I’m not being fair. It’s not all her fault. It takes two to have an affair, and I was right there, lock-step with her. I just should have known better. Should have done better.”

The creak of leather made him open his eyes and he saw Hawke coming toward him, a flash of silver in her hand. “Here.”

He took the flask, turning it in his hand. “I thought you lost this.”

She tried to look offended but her quick smile gave her away. “Are you kidding me? That’s my favorite gift ever. I’ve had that thing for damn near ten years, not about to lose it now.” She waited until he took a long drink, watched the motion of his throat as he swallowed, then took the flask back. “Now that you’re properly soused-”

“Your memory going, Hawke? One mouthful of admittedly good whiskey isn’t going to do that. I’m a dwarf.”

Hawke narrowed her eyes at him but the little grin on her face stayed put. “Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to say that you’re wrong.”

“You better give me that flask back, Hawke.”

She held it up near her head. “No, not until I say my piece. But you are wrong, Varric. There’s knowing better, doing better, and then admitting that we’re all fallible creatures who fall prey to our own worst instincts and desires. You had an affair. You ended it.” She handed him the flask, which he took and drank from, but his eyes never left hers.

Especially not when she knelt in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. I can’t imagine what shit seeing her again dredged up but whatever she was, whatever she did is hers to own. You’ve owned your part in it, now you need to make peace with it.”

He chuckled dryly, handed the flask back, and watched as she drained it. “Got any suggestions on how I do that? I’ve never been good with making peace with my own shitty decisions, would rather just skate over them and not acknowledge they exist.”

“Until they show back up and mess with your head?”

“Yeah, that.”

Hawke shrugged. “I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start. Some drinking, some heart-to-heart conversation. I didn’t forsee the strange stone room with shelves full of old dusty books, but I never claimed to be a prognosticator.”

Varric sputtered a laugh. “Wow, Hawke, didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What?”

“A five syllable word.”

She punched him in the arm but there was no effort behind it. If she’d really wanted to, he knew she could lay him out cold with an open handed slap. “Ah yes, the old big dumb warrior stereotype. You wound me.” But she laughed, and the darkness that had clouded her face lifted, and with it, he felt his spirit lift a little, too. “Come on, the night’s young and I want to see if I can lure Cullen into a game of cards.”

“Care to make a small wager on that?”

She shook her head. “Uh no. I am WAY too smart to gamble with you, Varric. Besides, losing my last bit of coin to you is not part of the ‘make my oldest friend feel better’ plan.”

He let her pull him out of the room and back down the cold, damp stairwell. “And if we can’t find Curly, or he’s too mopey or airquote busy to play cards?”

“Then I arm wrestle Bull.”

They came through the door hidden behind a bookcase on the second floor, his laughter echoing off the walls and making the birds overhead squawk indignantly. “Forget Curly. I _have_ to see you and Tiny go at it.”

Hawke slung an arm around his shoulders. “And there he is, making jokes on my behalf. What would I do without my trusty dwarf?”

“Probably die sad and alone and pining for the days when you could ogle my chest hair.”

“Good to have you back, Varric.”

They walked down the stairs and then out the main doors of Skyhold onto the grounds. “Thanks for keeping me in check, Hawke. I’ll try not to self-flagellate too much.”

“Flagellate away maybe just….you know, ask a friend to help before you submit to that kind of punishment.”

“I hear Tiny’s into that kind of thing.”

Hawke stopped, scarred eyebrow raised. “You _hear_ , huh? Varric, I had no idea.”

“Oh no, no you don’t.” And he pushed her into the warm light of the tavern as she cackled.


	2. Resolve

_A month later_

It was cold, wet, and _very_ dark outside, and Hawke was regretting not throwing on a heavier coat as she dashed across the parapets to the lonely western tower of Skyhold. But he had to know, and if she didn’t tell him now, would she forget in the morning?

Would it be too late?

“Andraste’s blasted ass and fuck the Fade,” she muttered as she ran, trying to keep her head down. “I’ll be happy if I die before entering that place again.”

She skidded to a halt before the large wooden door and, without knocking, barged in. The glow of several candles made her blink, but what made her halt in her tracks was the sight of Cullen leaning over a dark piece of fabric on a table in the corner, standing only in his boots and pants.

“What the - Hawke?” Cullen straightened, but didn’t look terribly alarmed at the sight of the Champion of Kirkwall barging into his office. “Are you….is everything all right?”

“Guess I should have knocked. Shit, sorry!” She turned around. “I uh, fuck, goddammit.” She heard the rustle of cloth but didn’t dare turn back. “I needed to tell you something, it’s urgent.”

He huffed out a little laugh. “Clearly, if you’re running around in this weather with no protection and at nearly three in the morning.” He picked up his shirt from the table, ignoring the half-patched hole he’d been working on, and shrugged into it. “You don’t need to worry about my modesty, you know.”

Hawke laughed despite herself and the blush she could feel on her cheeks. “Yeah, well, don’t want everyone in Skyhold talking about how you and I had a covert little meeting in the dead of night and you didn’t have your shirt on. I have a reputation to uphold.”

She heard him walk away from her, then the telltale squeak of wooden legs against stone. “Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, you should sit and dry off before you catch your death.”

“Turn of phrase a bit too on the nose, there,” she grumbled as she did as instructed. He had, indeed, put on a shirt that was clearly in need of repair, and pulled out two chairs near the man-sized fireplace that was putting off almost too much heat. She dropped her coat on the floor, wincing as it left a large puddle on the flagstones. “Okay, so, straight to business.”

He raised an eyebrow but waved her on. “Go ahead.”

“Right.” She sat with a sigh. “So, ever since we went into the Fade, I’ve been having these dreams. Mostly bullshit - spider demons, big oozes that swallow everything they come into contact with, stuff like that.”

Cullen was already worried upon hearing the words ‘spider demons’, but motioned for her to keep going as he reached up on the nearby shelf and pulled down a bottle of wine and two wooden goblets. “For courage, and warmth.”

“Man after my own heart,” she said wryly, making him snort. “And all your mages tell me that’s normal, having nightmares and weird dreams after being in the Fade, especially since I’m not magically inclined. But the last couple of nights, I didn’t dream, and I thought it was over. Finally, just done. No more bad stuff, no more spider demons, no more eyeless Wardens.” 

And then she went quiet, her gaze going hazy and distant just as Cullen pushed a full goblet of wine her way. He took the moment to observe her. Nevia Hawke was a whirlwind, a dervish, always moving, talking, fighting. The only time he’d ever seen her settle down was in the company of Varric, which he found rather amusing since the dwarf also never stopped talking. Hawke was tall and broad shouldered, built like a good warrior would be after years of fighting and hefting that massive blade she carried everywhere. But there was a lot of joy and heart in her, and it was obvious to anyone who watched her for more than a few minutes. 

But here, tonight….all of that was dashed away and she looked afraid. Sounded it, too, from the little tremor in her voice as she spoke. And if something scared Hawke, they should all be frightened. The Inquisitor was a fine leader, but he was noble born; a scholar first, a fighter second. Hawke had street smarts and the wit to match, and her instincts were rarely wrong. He’d learned that back in Kirkwall.

She came back to the present in a snap, sighing as she grabbed the goblet of wine and drained it in one gulp. “Oh my god that’s horrible. Did you let it go to vinegar? Doesn’t matter, pour it again.” Hawke waited until her goblet was full a second time before slumping over the table. “Let me just get this out. So this dream, tonight, was different. Felt different. Hordes of demons, just piling out of a massive Fade rift right over Skyhold. And behind them, a huge - no, bigger than huge - wolf, with about ten eyes and bloodstained fangs.” She drank again. “I wish it was just a dream, a nightmare even. But it felt so real and if we’re going to stand up to a demon horde….”

Cullen was already on his feet, moving toward a coat rack near the door. He slung his deep red cloak over his shoulders, then held out a shorter, black cloak to Hawke. “Come, we’ll wake the Inquisitor together. He would want to know what you saw.”

Hawke gaped at him. “Wha-yeah, okay, let’s go.” She took the cloak from Cullen with a tight lipped grin. “Thank you for believing me, and listening to me.”

“It’s my job, Hawke.” He helped her into the cloak and opened the door leading toward Skyhold. “Part of my job is listening to the people we trust to be here, as part of the Inquisition. And you and I have known each other for a long time. We may not have always seen eye to eye, but you trusted me enough to come here tonight. I won’t squander that.”

She shot him a grateful look but said nothing as they ran through the rain.

Just inside the main tower of Skyhold only a few guards stood at attention, though one or two of them perked up upon seeing the Commander. He nodded at them, saying, “Is the Inquisitor in? We need to see him.”

“Just took off on an….well, a something for Sera,” Varric said as he rounded the corner, quill behind his ear and a book in hand. “Said he’d be back sometime late tomorrow.” He paused, eyed both Cullen and Hawke, then shot Hawke a questioning glance. “Ah, nightmares again?”

“Yeah. Bad this time.” She drug a hand down her face. “Really bad.” 

“I need to get Leliana to send a bird out to Henrik - the Inquisitor.” Cullen raised an eyebrow at Varric, and Varric nodded in return. “Will you be all right, Hawke?”

Hawke sat down in Varric’s chair by the fire with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, go, do the thing.” Cullen began to walk toward the stairs, but stopped as Hawke said, “Thanks, Cullen.”

Varric watched the man nod at them both, then leave with a flick of his cape, quickly evaporating wet bootprints the only evidence of his presence. He put a chair beside Hawke, then dug around in the knapsack he kept nearby. “Ah, here we go.” And he pressed a bottle of brandy into Hawke’s hand. “That’s from the special reserves, so go easy and remember….sharing is caring.”

They passed the bottle back and forth a few times, Varric watching Hawke stare into the fire while keeping a death grip on her borrowed cloak. After he saw her shoulders slump a little, he leaned forward and motioned for the bottle. “Okay, let’s not get too carried away there.”

“Wha-oh, yeah. Sorry.” Bottle now safely in Varric’s custody, Hawke went back to staring.

Varric opened his mouth several times, trying to find a good way to start this discussion. He came up with funny, and sarcastic, and serious ways but none of them won out against _proactive concern_. So finally he said, “Hey, Hawke. These nightmares….do you think we should find someone? I don’t know, a specialist or something? Cause I’m worried. I know you said they’d gone away but this one was so bad you woke Curly up to warn him?”

She nodded. “It was really bad, Varric. Just fucking awful. The kind of thing that would make anyone not want to sleep again, ever. It’s all kinds of fucked up.”

“Worse than spider demons?”

She coughed and Varric heard it rattle in her chest. “Much, much worse.”

“So, I have a wild idea. How about we get you dried off, and into bed?”

Hawke turned her head so fast Varric fretted she’d snapped her neck. “Oh no. There’s no way I’m going to bed now. If I close my eyes and see that thing again -”

“No, I meant, just get into bed. Huddle under blankets with the fireplace going. And just ignore things for a bit.” He put a finger to his collarbone. “And that cough didn’t sound so hot. I wouldn’t recommend going back out in the rain again to your bunk.”

Confusion wrote its own little story on Hawke’s face as she watched Varric get up and hold out a hand to her. “My room doesn’t have a fireplace.”

“Mine does.” He pulled Hawke to her feet. “And if you want, I’ll even read you a bedtime story.”

* * *

“So, what are you in the mood for? A classic? Something funny?”

Hawke wiggled her toes under the three layers of blankets, sighing contentedly. “Got anything that will keep away nightmares?”

“Afraid I left the ‘destroy all nightmares’ spell in my other bedroom.” Hawke chuckled and burrowed even deeper into his bed. “I’d read you from the latest piece but it’s in dire need of editing and….well, talent.”

She scoffed. “Please.”

He crossed his arms defensively. “It’s really not my best work. I’m too distracted, with everything going on and all these people in and out of Skyhold. The kid pops in whenever he feels like it, though we’re working on manners. Sparkler and Tiny are flirting like there’s no tomorrow. And the Inquisitor is a hurricane of bad news, blood, and nobility that would make your hair curl.” He turned toward the heavy oak desk in the corner and started rifling through drawers. “It makes me homesick for Kirkwall.”

The quiet settled around them, the faint pop and crackle of the fireplace filling the void as Varric rummaged and Hawke watched him. Her old friend looked tired, and a bit sad. She didn’t know if he’d meant to confess like that just now, but she understood how he felt. In Kirkwall, even with its roaming bandit gangs and filthy streets and the stink of magic and garbage hanging in the air, you knew where you stood.

But here, in this massive old castle with hundreds of people moving in and out daily, and troops and mages and the constant flurry of everyone moving, talking, cursing, eating, drinking, sleeping, fucking…..it wasn’t the same. Kirkwall had been home and here, you got a room.

Granted, Varric’s room was very nice and had lovely windows and a huge fireplace that Hawke was coveting, but it was still just a room. 

It wasn’t home.

“Here we go,” Varric said, interrupting her train of thoughts. “I knew I had this thing somewhere.”

She waved him toward the bed. “Well come on then, share.” He started to drag a chair over but Hawke said, “Varric, get over here.”

“I’m just going to sit right-”

“No you’re not. Get into bed and get warm. That stone floor’s as cold as a witch’s tit and twice as hard.”

“I don’t want to know.” He hesitated, uncertainty making him frown. “Are you sure?”

“Get up here on your own, or I will pick you up and put you into this bed.”

But despite Hawke’s threat, he stayed still, one hand on the blanket, the other holding a sheaf of weathered and yellowed pages. _We’ve known each other for more than ten years and this is the first time we’ve shared a bed. Why does that make me feel….strange? Worried? First time in a while I can’t quite put words to something._

_Hawke is my oldest friend. What’s a bed between friends?_

Varric shook himself a little and gamely climbed up, setting in the spot Hawke had made for him. But Hawke noticed he wasn’t getting under the covers. “Afraid I have cooties or something?”

“Nope, just not cold. The fireplace is putting out plenty of heat.”

“You utter knob.” Hawke flung the blankets back. “Get into bed properly.”

 _Why doesn’t she have pants on? When did that happen?_ Varric blinked, trying to not stare at the long….long stretch of thigh exposed by Hawke’s no-pants status, and settled in “properly” before Hawke could badger him again. But he made sure to keep his distance.

_Oh, sure, now I’m worried about propriety. Andraste’s flaming ass. How many times has she seen me shirtless, or stripped down next to me because of some demon gunk or spider poison?_

He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and shuffled the pages around until he found the beginning. “Ready?”

“Mmm hmm,” Hawke said, eyes heavy-lidded. “Tell me a story, you silver tongued devil.”

_Don’t think about legs. Legs._

_Hawke’s legs. Next to me._

_Very, very long legs, and no pants._

Varric cleared his throat again, and began to read. “From high up, the village looked like not much more than a speck of mottled gray and brown, the people mere dots, the buildings drab slabs. But to Topher, it was home. And if the village was home, then Sundermount and the forests around the great peak were perfection....."


	3. Hope

_The next day_

“Ah, good, you’re here.” Vivienne gestured to the chair across from her at a small table in Skyhold’s garden. The drone of bees and quiet talk from the others enjoying the spring weather surrounded the little spot she’d carved out for her afternoon tea. The rain the previous night still glistened on a few leaves, but the storm had given way to a brilliant blue sky.

“I try not to be late for much, but especially not for this.” Varric smiled at the woman across from him. “It’s a little bit of civility for my week. And it’s much appreciated.”

Vivienne smiled. “It’s the least I can do, darling. Keeping your company over something as truly civilized as afternoon tea has been a delight.”

Varric watched Vivienne pour tea for them both. He enjoyed the delicate art of it - the shine of the teapot’s softly gilded edges, the gentle clink of cups in their saucers, the scent of jasmine and citrus from the steam that curled around them. 

“That was quite the big sigh. Something on your mind, Varric?”

Varric shook his head a little and took a long sip before answering. “I….yeah, actually.” He set his cup down and traced the gilded edge with a finger. “Let me pose it as a hypothetical, just to give me a framework for how to tell it, if that’s all right.”

Vivienne also set her cup down, reaching for the teapot to pour more. “It’s more than all right. And I’m happy to provide some insights, if I can.”

_And this is why you’re bringing it up. Everyone acts like the Iron Lady is cold and hard, like well….iron. But sneak around the back and you see the softer side. The side that knows what longing from a distance feels like._

_I don’t know if it’s even that. I don’t know what this is, and why now all of a sudden. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. Or was too busy trying to stay alive._

Varric took his refilled cup and held it between his hands, letting the warmth spread over the stiffness in his fingers he kept waking up with. “Two people. They’ve known each other a while. Seen some shit, been through more shit. But that wasn’t what bonded them in the first place.”

She tapped her nails against the cup, keen eyes watching every little twitch as he talked. “So are these people friends, or merely acquaintances who keep falling into situations together?”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Friends. Instant bond. Time and fate kept things interesting, but they were friends almost immediately. And it’s a deeper bond, more than just inside jokes and late nights at the bar. They trust each other, would die for each other.” _And nearly did a handful of times._

“A rare kind of friendship for sure. So many of us float in and out of each other’s lives, so to remain, to become a permanent fixture - “

“Like family.”

Vivienne bowed her head in agreement. “Like family. Incredibly rare, incredibly special.” She smiled softly. “Most people despise some or all of their family. But family is made, not born of blood.”

He lifted his cup in a toast. “Well said.”

“And given that you’re a storyteller and a writer, and you’re spinning me a tale, I presume the crux of the plot hasn’t been revealed.”

“You would assume correctly. So years go by, and their lives just get more and more tangled together. But like in any good story, there’s a bit of violence, a bit of ‘oh shit, time to run for our lives’ and then distance. They didn’t want to separate but uh…” Varric saw the sparkle in Vivienne’s eyes and he huffed out a laugh. “I should have known I wouldn’t be able to pull the wool over your eyes, Madame de Fer.”

Vivienne put a hand to her chest. “I don’t know what you mean, Varric. It’s a story, is it not? Pure fiction.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Yep, total fiction, made it all up in my mind.”

“Well, I’m deeply invested now and you’d best not hold back the end.”

He looked down into the dregs floating in the bottom of his tea cup. “That’s the kicker. I was always good at beginnings, decent at middles, and I suck at endings. And I don’t know how this one ends.”

She cocked her head. “How do you want it to end? Ideally.”

“Fuck I….sorry. In a perfect world, not one inhabited by demons and a war and the need for the Inquisition? Or in this messed up world?”

“Let’s stick closer to reality for a moment.”

“Was never good at that either,” he muttered, making her chuckle. He hesitated, wanting to say what immediately came to mind, but his writer’s instinct did a self-edit. “Ideally in this world, they’d wind up together. Romantically. There’d be a big confession, a cut to black, and then weeks and months and years of something beyond companionship or friendship.”

Her face was very serious as she asked, “Love?”

He shrugged, aiming for self-effacing but winding up somewhere closer to nonchalant. “Maybe, I don’t know. I think it starts as desire, with a bit of confusion mixed in. And worry, cause you wouldn’t want to fuck up years of friendship for an evening involving lots of wine, candles, and nudity.”

Vivienne poured the last of the tea and said, “People pay good money for less.”

Varric laughed. “Oh, that is so true. Ah, you’re making me homesick, my lady.” At her raised eyebrow he continued with, “For Kirkwall. There was this place tucked away in the corner in Hightown called the Blooming Rose. Had to stumble in there a few times to find wayward Templars or track down a lost relative. And there was this one time, we were looking for an elf who had been the last to see a woman who went missing. Hawke got the information out of him but her sister spent the whole time red as a beet -” He paused. “I miss that place.”

“The city, or the time to which you refer?”

“A little of both, I think. Kirkwall’s no gem like Orlais, and you couldn’t even call it rustic like Haven. It’s dirty, addled with crime and gangs, and has a power vacuum that even an explosion couldn’t solve. But I’m a Free Marcher, and it’s hard to let go of that, even if your city betrays you.”

“A sentiment I understand quite well, though without the Free Marcher piece.” She eyed him over the rim of her cup. “So in this story, the two friends wind up together, and then go where? Do they leave for shores unknown, or head back to something closer to home?”

He shrugged again. “Like I said, I suck at endings.”

Vivienne put her hand on top of his as it rested on the table. “Not everything has to be prewritten in order to play out in a satisfactory manner, my darling. Let things come as they will, but perhaps spend a little less time in your head and more staying in the moment.” She smiled. “But please do not ask me about how to court your friend. I understand her on a certain level, as I admire her take-charge attitude and willingness to work hard to achieve and desirable outcome. But I don’t have years of history with her like you do.”

Varric wasn’t one to blush, but he could feel heat in his cheeks. “Does everyone know?”

She laughed, high and bright and delighted. “Oh, I highly doubt it. I think a few believe your Hawke and Cullen are to be an item, what with the stories of her dashing into his quarters in the middle of the night, but they’re as likely a match as you and I are.”

“Ouch. You mean I’m _not_ the jewel of your eye? You wound me.”

“Highly unlikely, love. Your skin’s as tough as plate and twice as resilient.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should, it was meant as one.”

Varric pushed his chair back and stood, then bowed. “It has been, as always, a pleasure.” He straightened his coat and pushed his hair back, feeling her keen gaze on him. “And thanks. It was….helpful to talk this out.”

She raised her empty cup in a salute, much like he did earlier. “Happy to help, my dear. Remember, a little more out of your head and a bit more time spent in the moment. I think you’ll be thoroughly surprised at what will transpire.”

“Understood.” He looked around the garden, searching. “You don’t happen to know where our Tevinter friend is, do you?”

Vivienne looked up at the gray stone tower above them. “He rarely leaves the library, but I didn’t see him there earlier. If you find him, please let him know that I will castrate him if he borrows my silk shawl one more time.”

Varric snorted. “How about I keep the threat idle, and let you handle the castration part?”

She waved a hand at him. “Fair point. It’d be more entertaining for me to deliver that threat personally.”

He smiled as he walked off, but the moment he was out of the garden, Varric’s face dropped. 

Well…..shit.

* * *

Dorian didn’t turn as footsteps grew closer to his hidden spot high up between a parapet and a tower, where only the occasional guard tread while on patrol. “And here I thought I was being sneaky, what with the hiding between two solid walls and not telling anyone where I was.”

“Those who think they’re being sneaky rarely are, Sparkler.” Varric paused at the top of the stairs. “But I don’t want to interrupt. Need me to leave?”

Dorian waved a hand in the air. “Perish the thought. I don’t see you enough as it is, and you still owe me a drink.”

“Good thing I brought this, then.” He held up a knapsack. “Vintage, even.”

“Looks more like it rolled around in the mud then was trampled by a troll.”

“Ha fucking ha. If you don’t want it, I can put it back where I found it - in the wine cellar below the smithy.”

Dorian strode over to Varric and snatched the knapsack out of his hands. “Don’t you dare. I’ve only been down there once and what I was able to cart away has long disappeared into my liver.” 

Varric eyed the fine cloth of Dorian’s clothing - deep blue in color with a tight weave, detailed embroidery along the jacket. “New wardrobe?”

Dorian palmed the bottle and handed the knapsack back. “A little something I ordered while we were in Orlais. Just delivered.”

“Ah, right after the job in the Wastes. Good money there. Hope you saved some.”

The cork released from the bottle with a _pop_ , and Dorian breathed in. “I struck a _very_ good deal with the proprietor of the little shop. Plenty of my cut from that job left over for a rainy day.” he glanced at Varric. “This is not the kind of alcohol to be drank straight from the bottle, and as much as I like you my hirsute friend, I’m not swapping spit with you.”

Varric dug in the knapsack’s inner pocket and pulled out two wooden tumblers. “Not fine crystal goblets, but they’ll get the job done.”

“Indeed.”

Varric joined Dorian on the chairs the mage must have brought up earlier, and accepted a tumbler of the wine. “To fresh air, beautiful views, and excellent company.” He grinned. “And to the only person who has ever dared to call me hirsute, knowing I carry Bianca everywhere I go.”

Dorian raised his cup. “In life, boldness is often favored with positive outcomes. And when it’s not….you run.”

Varric laughed, and it echoed over the stones and made the passing guard glance at them. He waved her away before taking a drink. “Holy shit that’s good.”

Dorian did the same, and his eyes went wide. “Good? It’s practically orgasmic.”

Varric snorted, but drank again, holding the small sip in his mouth. His entire body warmed, and bursts of cardamom, chocolate, and cherries danced across his tongue. “I never thought I’d refer to wine as orgasmic but….this time I completely agree.”

They settled in silence for a while, sipping their wine and watching the clouds laze by in the bright blue sky. Dorian eventually turned to face Varric. “So, while I deeply appreciate the truly excellent vintage,” and he turned the bottle so the label was visible, “to what do I owe this visit, Varric?”

Varric drummed on the stone for a moment, still staring out over the mountains. The nerves that had rattled his bones as he made the long walk up to Dorian’s perch had largely settled (thanks to the incredible wine), but he still felt a tightness, an expectation in his chest. He sighed and said, “I’ve got a bit of a conundrum, and was looking for advice.”

“Me? I’m flattered. Though I do give quite good advice.” Dorian poured more wine into their cups. “So, this is a personal issue?”

“Yeah, and I think I’ve got some of it figured out, but I’m not sure how to proceed.”

Dorian put his feet up on the stone wall and reclined, tipping the chair to a dangerous angle. “Is this an internal conflict, or something between you and someone else?”

Varric bit his lip, looked down at a scuff on his boots. “This has to stay between us.”

“Consider me a vault.”

“That works.” He sighed and felt his stomach slowly twist out of the complicated knot it’d been in for some time. “It’s Hawke. And me. And it’s-”

“Complicated.” Dorian put his chair back on the ground. “You’ve been friends for what, ten years?”

“Longer.”

Dorian put his cup down and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “And these feelings you’re having….are they new, or newly recognized?”

Varric sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “I wish I knew.”

Dorian’s face grew pinched as he pursed his lips. “But do you know what you feel now?”

“Ugh, she’s my oldest friend, someone I trust more than anyone else.” He looked at Dorian between his fingers. “And last night, I climbed into bed with her while she was panicked from a nightmare. So I read to her until she fell asleep on my chest. And I looked down and this....warmth washed over me. I wanted to protect her and hold her and keep her there, with me, always." He paused. "And she had no pants on.”

Dorian’s face was very serious, but his mustache twitched as he asked, “And who removed them?”

Varric couldn’t help himself; he broke down laughing. “Oh, I’m not writing you that story, Sparkler. Use your imagination.”

Dorian leaned in closer, his voice soft. “What I can conjure up in my imagination is far beyond the mild fluff they publish in the Randy Dowager Quarterly.”

“So you’re saying I should have removed her pants for her?”

“I’m saying, you shouldn’t do your usual and mull over things before it’s too late.”

Varric blinked hard. “Ouch. Again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, Vivienne got me pretty good this morning, saying the same thing you did but with more tact.”

Dorian sat up and barked out a laugh. “You went to the Iron Lady for love advice? Oh, that’s _good_.” He lowered his voice again. “And mind you, I won’t tease you for going to Vivienne first for advice. But never mind that.”

“So, your recommendation?”

Dorian poured more wine. “It’s quite simple, Varric. _Talk to her_. Summon your courage, get some drinks, and talk to Hawke. She’s your friend, you love her, you want her.” He smiled. “And if you don’t like that direct tact, show up in her room shirtless and carrying a bottle of whiskey. Show off that glorious chest hair.”

Varric just stared at Dorian. “You’re serious?” Dorian nodded. “You’re serious.”

Dorian shrugged and took a sip of wine. “It would work on me, and we’ve only known each other for less than a year.”

A slow smile spread over Varric’s face and he watched as Dorian shifted slightly in his chair in response. “Do you fancy me, Sparkler?”

Dorian matched Varric’s smile, turning the charm on to ten. “In another life, in another world, I could see it.” He shook his head. “But in this world, this life, you and Hawke need to have a chat. Talk to her, seduce her, but whatever you do, be honest.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out, watching it take shape in the chilly air. “That is always the best path forward, my friend.”


	4. Longing

_ Later that day _

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was in here. I’ll leave.”

Varric turned to see Cassandra backing toward the door. “You don’t have to leave because of me, Seeker. Or, I can leave if you’d rather be alone.”

The door closed and she came closer, grabbing a chair on the way and putting it next to his by the fire. “No, I…..alone is probably not good for me right now.”

Varric raised an eyebrow at her. “Something happen?”

“No!” She crossed her arms and frowned, making the scar near her jawline pull down. “Yes, actually. I just don’t know how to process it.” She glanced around at the empty forge, eyes searching. “Why are you in here instead of with Hawke? I thought you two were glued together at the side.”

“She and Tiny took the Chargers out for a training weekend, so she’ll be back in a day or so.”

“And yet,” she said, eyes narrowed at him, “you don’t sound thrilled at the prospect. Odd.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, or maybe a warding gesture meant to fend off her inquiry. “Easy there, no need for the second degree. I’m not your prisoner anymore. And I’m glad she’s out with the Chargers. Hawke’s like a particularly large Mabari - if she goes too long without getting to chase or hit something, she gets antsy. It’s not pretty.”

Cassandra laughed, a rusty sound that forced its way out of her throat. “I don’t doubt it. Though I also doubt she’d appreciate being compared to a dog.”

Varric held up a finger and tutted. “A  _ Mabari _ , and if there ever was an official animal of Ferelden, it’s those creatures. And Hawke is Ferelden so….” He shrugged with a smile. “Besides, I started telling her she’s like a Mabari long before you were ever graced with my presence. She calls me Shorty all the time.”

Cassandra made a noise but there was no heat behind it. She took a seat beside Varric and stayed quiet for several long moments, staring at her clasped hands in her lap. “Want to talk about it?”

She lifted her head, dark eyes trained on his outline framed in firelight. “Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you feel very out of your depth?” Then she scoffed. “Who do I think I’m talking to, you always know what you’re doing.”

Varric laughed and Cassandra drew back at the force of his reaction. “Seeker, I don’t know what I’m doing or what’s going on ninety percent of the time, and the other ten percent is me lying my ass off.”

“Only ten?”

“Maybe twenty.” He smiled. “But that’s me, and we’re going to talk about you.”

“ _ Fine _ .” Cassandra leaned back in the chair. “As you know, the Inquisitor came back today from his errand with Sera. And a few hours ago, he called the advisors into the War Room to plan the next move. After the meeting was over, he asked me to stay back.” And then she stopped.

Varric couldn’t stand the drama. “Seeker, you’re killing me here. He wanted...what, to do paperwork? To ask about how you keep your armor so shiny?”

“He asked me on a date.”

Varric’s eyes widened so much he could feel them dry out instantly. All he could manage was to reply was, “And how did you respond?”

She groaned and put her head in her hand. “Poorly, I’m afraid. I told him to stop joking and picked up the reports from Leliana’s scouts, then left.”

“You left?” His voice went up a notch. “HOW? WHY?”

“You don’t need to shout, I understand I made a mistake. Now I just don’t know what to do about it.” She groaned again. “I made a mess of things.”

“Now, Seeker,” he replied softly. “I think what’s important here is figuring out the first step - do you  _ want _ to go on a date with Henrik?”

Cassandra gaped at him a few times, mouth working but no sound coming out. “I’ve been asking myself that since then. And….I think so.”

He slapped the arms of his chair with his palms. “Then echoing advice I received myself earlier today, you go talk to him. Clear the air.”

Her face dropped. “And if he says no, he changed his mind?”

He inhaled sharply, realizing how close her question hit home. “Then you nod and walk away. And be sad or upset for a while, and then try to focus on the next day.”

“That’s…..rather practical of you,” Cassandra said slowly. 

“Surprised, Seeker?”

“No, I’m grateful.” She sighed. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

_ Yeah, me either _ , Varric thought as he watched her.  _ I can dish out the advice but can’t take it. I don’t know if that makes me a hypocrite, or just really bad at dealing with my own shit. _

He eyed Cassandra.  _ Probably both _ . “Hey, Cassandra, I might not be the best person to ask about this kind of thing. It pains me to admit this, but I’ve got some deep seated issues of my own around the whole affairs of the heart deal. Maybe ask Dorian-”

Cassandra snorted. “Not likely. He prefers to prod and poke to get information, instead of simply asking.”

“Oh-kay, what about Josephine? She’s professional, practical, and a little bit of a romantic deep down.”

Cassandra sat up and tilted her head in thought. “That’s actually a good suggestion, thank you Varric.”

He did a little bow from his seat. “I occasionally have a good idea or two.”

“Ha, well, I should go talk to Josephine. I think she’s still in her office.” She stood and stretched. “I appreciate your help.”

“Anytime, Seeker.” He heard her start to walk away, but then she came back. “Leave something behind?”

Cassandra leaned on her chair and peered down at him, her face even more serious than normal. “I never asked you why you were in here, brooding.”

“I don’t brood. You’re confusing me with….you.”

“Very funny. I’m serious, Varric. Is something troubling you?”

Varric stood and dusted off his pants, feeling the weight of her gaze before he looked up at her. “Strangely, I find myself in a similar boat as you, Seeker.”

Shock danced across her face. “Really? But I thought….with who?” She paused, thinking. “Ah. That makes a surprising amount of sense.”

He groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Am I that obvious?”

She chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “No, actually, but it  _ is _ a trope in romance where the old, old friends slowly fall in love.”

“I’m becoming the very thing I hate writing,” he moaned dramatically, making her laugh. “Ah, well I had to become trite and predictable at some point.

She gave his shoulder one last past and headed for the door. “Don’t sell yourself short, Varric. And you still owe me another chapter of  _ Swords & Shields _ .”

Varric watched her leave before squaring his shoulders and marching over to the tavern. “Time for one more night of bad decisions before Hawke comes back,” he said to himself.

* * *

“Shield down!” Hawke roared over the sound of metal weapons clashing against armor and the yells of the combatants around her. “Your face can take a hit, but the right amount of force onto your chest can kill you!  _ Shield down! _ ”

“You heard her!” Bull yelled from the other side of the sandy courtyard. “Get your asses in gear, Chargers!”

Hawke swung her double-headed battleaxe around in a vicious arc as she brought up one foot and booted a young elven woman in the chest, sending her sprawling. Her shield, which she definitely wasn’t holding according to instruction, sailed through air and landed about ten feet away. The axe came down within an inch of the woman’s bare throat. “Shield down in this instance would save your life and, if you’re lucky, make me get my axe stuck, giving you a chance to get to your feet, or kick me in the knee.” 

Hawke hauled the woman to her feet as Bull came toward them. “Damn, Shala, I told you -”

“Yeah, yeah,” the woman muttered, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. “Shield down, I got it.”

Bull looped an arm around her shoulders. “Well, until you get that in your head, you’re not going out on a job. You’ll stay -”

“Oh, come on!” she protested, frowning.

“You’ll stay,” he repeated, “near camp and do patrol. I can’t send out someone as green as you and risk your life, or the lives of my other warriors. Keep working on the shield, and make sure you get Krem to work on it with you. He’s almost as good as Hawke.”

“Hey!” Krem protested as he parried a blow meant for his head. “I heard that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bull said with a grin. “Now go on, take a break.”

Shala trotted off, favoring her right leg a little. Bull turned to Hawke and said, “Damn, Hawke, you don’t take any prisoners, do you?”

She shrugged. “You told me not to go easy on them.”

“Ha ha! And you most certainly did not. Maybe that’ll shake Shala awake. I brought her on because we needed more bodies but I think she overstated her ability with a blade. If she doesn’t shape up…” He sighed and scratched the side of his nose. “I’ll have to let her go. I can’t let her inexperience, or her attitude, risk others’ lives.” 

Hawke pulled a rag from her pocket and began polishing the axe blade. “Why not just have her as part of the company but not a fighter? Every good mercenary company needs more people than just fighters in their ranks.”

“True enough.” He glanced over at Shala, who was now talking to a dwarf Hawke had been introduced to as “Rocky, and he likes to blow shit up”. “Ah, and here I was trying to be nice for one and not a hardass.”

Hawke chuckled. “I think they - and I, honestly - would prefer badass. They know you care, and if you’re going to do all of them any good, you keep them in line and bust their asses when necessary.” She looked up at the towering Qunari. “You’re a good leader, Bull. Thanks for asking me to come along this weekend.”

Bull grinned, the expression making his face crinkle pleasantly. “Couldn’t think of anyone better suited to making these bastards earn their paycheck.”

Hawke slugged him on the arm. “Come on big guy, Krem’s gonna beat us to those casks and I plan on getting VERY drunk tonight.”

Bull threw his head back and laughed as they walked toward Krem and the rest of the Chargers. “Drunk enough to arm wrestle me again?”

“Depends on what we’re drinking.” Hawke eyed the casks. “Oh….I feel very spoiled right now. Where the hell did you get  _ casks _ of ‘Hegund’s Special Reserve’? I thought that was only in collectors’ cellars at this point.”

Krem winked at her. “Payment for a job before we joined the Inquisition. Gotta love it when payment comes partially in alcohol.”

Hawke watched the first cask lid be pried off, barely able to contain herself. “Can the guest go first?” Bull just handed her a cup and she grinned, all teeth and excitement. “I’m going to be  _ so _ drunk.”

* * *

“So there we were in the dundeon...dunge...dung -”

“Wait,” Bull said from his spot reclining against a log. “Like shit?”

“Pfffttt no stupid, a dungeon!” Hawke smiled big and wide, proud she finally got the word out. “Waaaaaayyy underground, and here’s this fucker Cory-if-us telling us about the Black City and shit. Ooo, scary. And now here he is again, and he was  _ dead _ cause me and Varric killed him.” Hawke burped and it echoed across the beach where they’d made camp. 

Krem was leaning against another log, mostly asleep, but he cracked one eye open after Hawke belched. “Go to bed, we gotta get up in the morning.”

Bull laughed loudly, much louder than normal. “Krem, your tent is thirty feet away. Just crawl into your bedroll. Let the adults keep talking.”

Krem rolled over, upending a bottle of what Bull hoped was wine. “Well, I was adult enough to not get stupid drunk in the first hour but at least my head won’t be killing me later.” He stood up slowly and brushed sand off his armor. “Have fun, don’t be stupid.”

“We won’t!” Hawke yelled, then immediately broke down into a fit of giggles. 

“So, Hawke….Varric said you’d faced Corypheus before but was it really bad?”

Hawke swung her head around so she could look at Bull. Her face went serious, which was impressive for how drunk she was. “Yeah, it was bad. Really real real bad. He almost killed Fenris and he fights real good.”

“Better than me?” Bull tried to look put out but he couldn’t feel his face moving. He scrunched his face up, trying to look sad. Or maybe angry. He was definitely making an expression.

“Not better, just fights different,” Hawke slurred. “You’re all mad angry bee rage and Fenris is like a big silent wave that just sucks you under.”

Bull squinted at her, took another swig from his cup. “Mad angry bee rage?”

“Yeah, you make a lot of noise and when you sting someone, they die.”

“Hahahaha that’s stupid,” Bull said. Hawke laughed with him. “Can I be a dragon instead?”

Hawke looked up at his horns with bleary eyes. “You’ve got the head gear for it.”

Bull’s grin widened. “Dare me to breathe fire?”

Hawke scrambled to her feet, misjudged her balance, and toppled ass first back into the sand. “Do it!” she roared.

“Oh no, no that’s a bad idea Boss,” Krem said as he practically dashed out of his tent. “You’re half alcohol at this point and I do not want to be picking bits of you out of the beach.” He pointed to Bull’s tent. “Bed. Now.”

“Aw, come on Krem,” Hawke pouted. “‘S no fun.”

“Yeah, Krem, I’m  _ Iron fucking Bull _ , I can handle it!” Bull said, thumping on his chest with one fist.”

“BED,” Krem said, voice stern.

Bull kicked the sand. “Fine. But I know who is carrying the casks tomorrow.”

“They’re empty, Boss,” Krem said as he ushered Bull to his tent. “And don’t get any wise ideas, Hawke. There’s no more alcohol. Best head to bed.”

Hawke sat back down by the dying fire with a thump. “I’mma sleep here.”

“Suit yourself.”

_ A few hours before dawn _

“Ugh, so many regrets,” Hawke mumbled as she lifted her head off her pack. “Head hurts, mouth’s dry, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse-”

“You’re still out here?”

“Wha-” Hawke shot up, felt her gorge rise, and laid back down, eyes searching. She saw Bull approaching, looking no worse for wear. “How? You drank three times as much as I did.”

He smiled and held out a hand to her. “Qunari metabolism and Ben-Hassrath training. We learn early on how to party hard and mostly keep our heads.”

“Ugh,” she moaned as she sat up. “Why did I do that?”

He handed her a water flask and she drank it in one go. “Here, chew this.” He held out a sprig of what looked like weeds with dark green leaves and tiny yellow flowers. “Good for headaches.”

“Sure, why not when I already feel like I’m dying?” She took the plant and started chewing. It wasn’t bad as far as raw plants went. “It kind of tastes like elfroot.”

“You’ll feel better in a bit,” he replied as he leaned back against the same log she was sitting near. “So, scale of one to ten, how was your weekend?”

Hawke peered at him, just barely able to make out his form with the slowly lightening sky behind them. “Other than the hangover, that’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

He winked at her. “Then you’re not having nearly enough fun. You’re a hell of a warrior, a beautiful woman, and funny as hell. Gotta be someone on the side.”

Hawke’s mouth twitched into a grin. “You offering?”

“Normally I would but...Ben-Hassrath training tells me there’s something else happening.”

Hawke froze.  _ Oh fuck. He knows. I haven’t told ANYONE. What the fucking fuck fuck…..  _ She swallowed hard. “I’m guessing I can’t lie to you.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “You can, I just would know. I mean, go for it, it’ll be a good way for me to shake off some of the rust.”

“No,” she said, more crossly than she felt. “I just gotta know…..how?” She held up a finger. “Don’t say  _ Ben-Hassrath training _ .”

Bull sobered, looking at Hawke very seriously. “One of a few things happen when people have been friends for as long as you and Varric. You either remain friends and become family-”

“Which we are,” she protested.

“Most family members don’t fall in love with each other,” he retorted. “Unless you’re a Vint.”

“Heard that,” Krem said from up the beach, carrying a fishing pole laden with fresh catches.

Bull chuckled. “Can’t help myself. But it’s the little things - you two immediately fall in step with each other, even in a group. Your conversation is so effortless most people would think you planned it.”

“None of that is grounds for anything other than being good friends,” she grumbled.

“I’m getting to the good part. You touch him all the time, Hawke. You watch him  _ all the time _ . And when he touches you, you lean into it. You watch his mouth when he talks. And the look on your face when he’s near? You lose track of everyone else.”

“Andraste’s ass, I sound like a lovesick teenager.”

Bull laughed again, more softer this time. “Ever plan on telling him?”

Hawke started to protest again, but snapped her mouth shut and stared past Bull at the sky for several long moments. “I don’t know how. I don’t even know if he-”

“He does.” He nodded. “He definitely does. I recommend locking the two of you in a room, light some candles, and just start going at it.” He shrugged. “Or whatever strikes your fancy. I can give you some pointers if you’re into restraints.”

Hawke felt the world close around her at Bull’s insistence that Varric also felt the way she did. A roar started in her ears and made her heart thud in her chest.  _ I can’t believe I’m having this conversation right now. Years of smothering my feelings because we were so busy fighting for our lives and now….fuck, what am I going to do? _ “I uh...thanks for the offer,” she said as Krem neared to restart the campfire. 

“When in doubt, talking things out usually works. At least then you’d know where you two stand and what you do next.” He winked again. “Hopefully it’s each other.”

“Ugh,” Hawke groaned into her hands, instantly regretting it since she was covered in sand.

Bull slapped her on the back and helped her stand. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast and get on the road.” He leaned in and said quietly, “And if you need to talk, I’m here. I’ve got a personal thing going on to take care of myself and I know what it’s like to hold back and keep all those feelings locked away.”

She looked up at him gratefully. “Thanks.” Her gaze turned questioning. “You and Dorian?”

He tapped the side of his nose. “Well, if I’m lucky. He might be a Vint, but have you seen his ass?”

Hawke sputtered out a laugh. “It’s a good ass.”

“I’ve had dreams about that ass. And Hawke, any time. Glad to help.” He glanced around the camp. “Chargers! Up and at ‘em! We need to get back to Skyhold, don’t want to miss out on any action!”

Hawke watched the camp wake up to Bull’s bellowing.  _ I really need to talk to Varric _ , she thought.  _ I’ve put this off for too long. _


	5. Interlude: Anticipation

_Two days and one storm later (much to Hawke's chagrin)_

The magically-enhanced beacons of Skyhold blazed through the murky, soaked dark. “I’m going to leap into the first bonfire I see,” Hawke grumbled as they trudged up the muddy path leading home. “Then I might be dry.”

Bull’s laugh rumbled over their soaked, miserable group. “What’s the matter, Hawke? Don’t like the rain?”

She held out a hand, palm up. “This isn't rain. This is the ocean being dropped on our heads.”

Bull sidled up to her and said in her ear, “So this has nothing to do with nerves or uh...anticipation, right?”

She elbowed him in the side and felt her whole arm vibrate. “Ow. Maker’s balls, are you made of stone?”

Bull ran a hand down his chest, which garnered a few wolf whistles. Water ran down his hand and landed on the ground, drawing Hawke’s eye. “Happy to help you dry off before you go running off to your lover.” 

His voice was teasing but Hawke couldn’t help but flush at his suggestion. “How about this….if something goes wrong, and I need to get some tension out - “

“You come knocking, no strings attached.”

“Tease.”

“Only way I know how.”

An hour later, they finally reached the first chokehold gate. Hawke could feel her nerves climb into her throat and settle there. Her fingers, already numb from the damp cold, curled inward to her palms, as if she could punch the anxiety away. 

_Breathe, Hawke. You’re coming back to Skyhold, going to get dry and post up by the fire with a big meal and an even bigger cup of ale….nope, whole bottle of wine. And then I’m going to go talk to Varric -_

Hawke’s thoughts skidded to a halt as, unbidden, she saw herself _with tousled, towel-dried hair, wrapped in a fur blanket, sitting before a massive fireplace._

_The one in Varric’s room._

_A shadow falls over her and Varric sits beside her. Shirtless. Gold necklace glinting in the firelight, copper hair shining. Those whiskey eyes watching her, lingering on her lips. He passes her a goblet of wine._

_The blanket slips down off one of her shoulders, and Varric can’t help himself. He reaches out to trace a finger over her newly-bared skin. Her breath catches in her throat and she turns her head toward him, just as his palm brushes her jaw._

_“Missed you. Was worried while you were gone,” Varric says as he leans in._

_“I’m here now,” Hawke says as their lips meet._

“Good, you’re back.” 

Hawke’s head shot up as she heard Cassandra’s voice. The Seeker was coming down the stairs near Cullen’s office, hooded cape making her dark eyes stand out even more in the flickering torchlight. Hawke groaned a little realizing they might be delayed on the whole unpacking, getting warm, getting fed deal. 

But instead, Cassandra approached Bull and instantly started talking about the next job for the Inquisition, and Bull was gone. The Chargers took off for the tavern, but not without lobbing Hawke an offer to join them.

“I got a….thing,” she said lamely. “But maybe later?”

Bull winked at her and chuckled as he walked off with Cassandra. “Be good!” he hollered at the edge of the courtyard.

Hawke flushed and waved him off before running through the rain to her rooms in the eastern tower, taking the stairs two at a time. She didn’t even have the door open before she was stripping off her cloak.

She didn’t register the lit lamp and wall sconces, as well as the candles placed throughout the room, until she’d firmly shut the door against the battering rain. She turned in a slow circle as she peeled off her gloves. _What the-_

A folded sheet of parchment on top of a beautiful fur cloak was on her neatly made bed. The letter was simply addressed “Hawke” in a hand she knew instantly.

“Oh fuck,” she said softly. _Am I ready for this? What if it’s bad news? What if he’s….going back to Kirkwall?_

She ran her fingers over the cloak, delighting in the gorgeous black fur. It was a splendid gift, expensive and stunning and just like Varric. The thought of her wearing it, and nothing else, made her breath hitch and she closed her eyes against the sensation spiraling low in her belly.

She slowly opened her eyes and focused on the letter. With a shaking hand and heart in her throat, she opened it.

_Hawke:_

_I wrote this days ago - wrote and rewrote it, actually. I spilled my heart through ink on so many pages but in the end, it just doesn’t add up to what I’m feeling._

_This might be a surprise, or maybe not. I’ve been assured by a few people that I stand a good chance at not messing this up. I want to see you. I want to talk to you._

_And what happens after that is entirely up to you. But I’ve sat on these feelings for too long, and now I want to show you._

_So when you’ve ditched the armor and changed into that post-battle tunic you always throw on, come see me. You don’t need to knock, just come on in. I promise a roaring fire, dinner, wine, and my company. And whatever else you want._

_And bring the cloak._

_-Varric_

Hawke sat down on the edge of the bed, the parchment gripped in her clammy hands. She started laughing, just a soft chuckle with a slight edge to it. She felt hot and cold at the same time, and part of that flush cascaded through her belly and then lower. Something pulsed deep in her body and it washed the relief away, leaving her wanting. Aching.

It had been so long since she’d been touched by someone else. For a while, she’d thought that part of her was only meant to be put up on a dusty shelf and never looked at again. As though she didn’t deserve companionship. It could be purchased, but the sheen of that had worn off long ago. And when you spend most of your days fighting, there wasn’t much energy left for fucking, at least for her.

She shook herself a little and stood, stripping out of her armor in record time. The tunic Varric mentioned slipped over her head, and she didn’t bother with her hair - it was always tied back anyways to stay out of her face. And she looked like a drowned rat right now, but it didn’t matter. 

What mattered was getting to him.

She pulled on buttery soft leather pants, her old riding boots, and as an almost afterthought, took out the tiny bottle of lavender and cedar perfume Isabela had gifted her long ago. It was still mostly full, but tonight was a good chance to test it out. 

Finally ready, she put on the cloak and hissed at the feel of the fur on her skin.

_I want to be naked on this cloak, firelight dancing on my skin, as he maps my body with his hands and mouth._

The thought came unbidden but not unwelcome. She frantically pulled another cloak over the fur one, and with one last look at the letter on her bed, ran back out into the night.


	6. Interlude: Waiting

“He is pacing, waiting, heart full but nerves like butterfly wings in the wind. ‘Will she stay?’ Skin soft in the firelight, dark eyes watching his every move -”

“Cole, are you all right?”

Cole’s eyes were hidden in the deep shadows of his huge hat, but Dorian felt his gaze all the same. “Yes. I am.”

Dorian glanced around, looking for Solas or Varric or….anyone who could read Cole’s speech and moods better than he ever could. “Are you certain? I can get Solas, or Varric -”

Cole was still stock-still but Dorian swore he saw the boy ( _demon? spirit?_ ) flicker a little. “He walks through the Fade like a maiden in a meadow - fresh, free, open.” He lifted his head and Dorian could make out the tip of his chin. “And Varric is pacing, waiting, heart full-”

Eyebrow quirked up in an almost-impossible arc, Dorian held out his hands in a placating manner. “So Solas is doing his Fade-walker thing and Varric is….anxious about something?”

“Yes. He paces, hands sweating, heart in his throat and thumping.”

“Right. Well.” Dorian’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Glad to know he took my advice to heart.”

But,the quiet of the library that he’d been so enjoying, as the rain pattered against the windows and the candles and lanterns flickered pleasantly, was now fractured. Not ruined, for as much as he hated to admit it Cole was growing on him….but it certainly felt different now. Cole had popped in and began rambling, causing Dorian to fumble his book. He cast his gaze about one more time, sighed, and held a hand out to the stairs. “It’s late and I haven’t had dinner. Join me?”

Cole hopped down off the circular railing in a casual manner that made Dorian’s heart clench a little. He lifted his head, letting the shadows recede enough to reveal his eyes. “Yes.”

“Then we shall sup on….whatever the tavern has on the menu tonight.”

The odd pair made their way through the massive front doors of the main tower of Skyhold and into the dreary night.

While he couldn’t make out who it was exactly, Varric spotted the edge of a broad hat and a hint of dark hair passing underneath his window. He’d paused in his pacing to peer out the window, hoping to see Hawke in her new fur cloak. _Though of course I probably wouldn’t see Hawke in a black fur cloak and with her face hidden from the rain._

_Fuck. Maker’s balls I’m so nervous._

_What if she doesn’t show up?_

Varric spun away from the window and tried to focus, checking the details over for the thousandth time. Candles were magically imbued with an everburning flame and placed around the room, creating dancing edges of shadows that encircled soft pools of light. Candles dotted the two side tables near the one wall. They sat along the top of the short bookshelf and in the middle of the small dining table Varric had hauled up to his room earlier in the day. 

And most importantly, candles sat on the shelves above and to the left of the bed, but the candles here were shorter, casting deeper shadows.

Flowers sat on the dining table, apple blossoms and red carnations in a crystal vase he borrowed from Vivienne. She’d helped him procure the flowers as well, imported from a garden in Orlais, and when they arrived this morning, she delivered them herself. _Madame de Fer brought me flowers wrapped in silk and crystal, and smiled as she handed them over. Truth truly is stranger than fiction._

Furs and blankets were draped over the chairs and piled on the bed, creating nests of warmth. Practical against the damp chill, but Varric had also laid out furs near the fireplace that Hawke loved so much. _I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have ulterior motives_ , he thought as he eyed the immaculate white bear fur in front of the fireplace. _I just want her there, with me, warming ourselves with the fire and wine._

Varric drew in a deep breath, enjoying the feel of air spiced with wood smoke and the wine decanting nearby. He fought the urge to go look out the window once more. And as he was wont to do when nervous or antsy, his mind wandered. He couldn’t tear his gaze from that white fur on the floor.

_And I want more. Everything I’ve done in this life means nothing if she’s not there. And I need to touch her, to breathe her in, to run my fingers through her hair and taste the spot below her ear where she’s ticklish. I want to look at her eyes - really look at them - before I kiss her._

_Would she let me drape her in furs and blankets against the cold? Will she drink wine with me, laughing like we used to before the world went to shit? Or, can we find a new way to….be._

_Together._

_I want her with me, near me. And I want to show her how much I’ve hid because we were always doing something - tracking down Tal-Vashoth, keeping Blondie in check, finding Merrill after she wandered off, fighting off demons, or spiders….or demon spiders. We’ve never just had time for each other. And I want to show her what I feel. But I don’t know what to say -_

In the quiet of the room, his rapid-fire thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a single set of boots on the stairs. A slow approach, but it didn’t falter.

Varric drew in one more deep breath, stood, and waited for his door to swing open.


	7. Yearning

The far tower where Varric kept his room was quiet aside from the slant of rain hitting the stones outside. Hawke slowly climbed the stairs, hands numb from the cold and her nerves. 

_ Remember what Pa always taught you? Breathe. Focus.  _

_ Breathe. Focus. _

She climbed, one step after the other, and at the stair just below the landing to Varric’s door, she froze, listening. The sound of the rain nearly hid it, but on the other side of the door she heard soft footsteps and an intake of breath.

Hawke couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she pushed open the heavy wood door. But the smile disappeared as she gaped at the room before her. The room she’d been in dozens of times since coming to Skyhold was lit by a rosy glow from at least thirty candles.

“Glad you’re here, Hawke.”

She had sensed him before he’d made any move toward her, had said anything. There was no way she could have ignored him - there was an energy, palpable in the air. And that scent...candle wax, ink, leather, all commingled with freshly cut wood from the bolts Varric made by hand. Things she always associated with him. They’d been comforting for so long and now, those scents only set her nerve endings on fire.

With painstaking slowness, Hawke turned her head. He was walking toward her, soft smile on his face, expression open save for the tension that crinkled the corners of his eyes ever so slightly. He was in casual clothes, nothing different than she’d ever seen before, but something about the fact that he was already comfortable -  _ stripped down _ \- sent a frisson of lightning down her spine.

“So, I heard the Chargers move their noisy selves over to the tavern. Must have been a good weekend.” He tipped his head up, smile spreading. “I’m glad you decided to come by, instead of going with them.”

It was a calculated move on her part, to shift the worn green cloak aside and flip the black fur one forward a little, so it would catch the light. To his credit, he didn’t so much as blink, but she caught the tic in his jaw as she did so.  _ Caught you, you sneaky bastard. _

“How could I ignore your letter, and this? It’s a beautiful gift,” she said softly, smoothing her hand over the spot where the fur landed against her hip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so luxurious, so lush.” She stepped once, twice toward him. Calculated. Measured. 

If her gaze could melt, Varric would be a puddle on the floor. Hawke let the ratty green cloak drop to the floor and dared to step even closer, putting just a few feet between them. _Sweet Andraste’s tits and may she strike me down...but my best friend is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._

_ Oh, fuck me. _

_ Please. _

Varric’s breath caught in his chest when she turned her golden brown eyes on him, the force of everything he knew to be Hawke barrelling down on. “I’m glad you like it. It uh….really suits you.”

She grinned, an expression Varric knew well and loved all the more. “I have no idea where you got it, or what the occasion is, but I love it.”

Something deep between his lungs unclenched, like a coiled spring of relief. “So now’s not the time to tell you I got myself a matching one, huh?”

Hawke burst out laughing, and the tension popped like a balloon. “I have never, ever seen you wear black. Something about it being too ‘dour and sad and serious and that’s just not me’.” She winked at him. “But I look good in it, don’t I?” She started to undo the clasp on the front of the cloak, letting her scarred, nimble fingers find the catch without looking away from Varric. 

_ I know she’s not naked under there but maybe one day…. _ He swallowed hard before motioning to the table. “I was going to ring for dinner, if you’re hungry.”

“Starving.” Hawke swung the now unfastened cloak over an empty chair, giving it a little pat goodbye.  _ Back for you later, if things go right tonight.  _ She took in the room for the first time since she entered - the candles casting their soft glow, the blazing fire in the hearth, the -

She stopped short as she saw the crystal vase of flowers on the small dining table. Apple blossoms hung their delicate pink heads over the edge of the vase and in the center, scarlet carnations stood proudly, like they were holding up the blossoms.

Struck dumb by the thoughtfulness, she stared. And apparently was staring too long as Varric came over to her. “Hey, Hawke, you okay?”

Callused fingers touched hers and she started. “I just - sorry. But the flowers….” Hawke trailed off, feeling a lump in her throat.

Varric shrugged. “You always had to go by that little plant vendor at the edge of Hightown. You’d look at her pots of jade plants and big floral arrangements and talk about how beautiful they were, but once you fixed up the family home, it was always red carnations and apple blossoms.” He chuckled. “I remember when you gave Daisy a dawn lotus, I thought she was going to implode from sheer happiness.”

Hawke laughed with him. “Or, when I gave Fenris a cactus and told him it reminded me of his personality?”

“Dry and bit of a prick?”

Hawke snorted. “He thought it was funny!”

More of the tension that had spooled in Varric’s gut loosened as they laughed, stuck in a shared memory. “You gave out a lot of plants, if I recall.”

Hawke sat down at the table and touched a finger to one of the apple blossoms heavy with pollen. “Tried to give you some but it was always an excuse or a reason from you.”

Varric sat as well, pouring wine for them both.  _ Thank you, Dorian, for the wine recommendation. _ “My room at the Hanged Man was not a hospitable place for most things, especially a plant that needs light, water, and care.” He looked around his current lodgings. “Though with that big window, I bet there’d be enough light.”

“We should definitely get you a plant. Like a big fern or something low maintenance.” She pulled the vase to her and breathed in the flowers, closing her eyes as the scent of apple blossoms overtook her. “Every time I smell apple blossoms, I smell home.”

“Ferelden?”

She lifted her head, eyes oddly bright. “Yeah. We had an apple orchard in Lothering. Every spring, they’d blossom with these fat white and pink flowers just as the days started to warm up. I’d go out there, no siblings tagging along after me, and just lay under the trees and the clouds between the branches. It was special, like my own little world.” Hawke sighed. “I loved those trees. I thought I’d spend my life tending to them, picking their apples in the fall. I thought I’d never leave Lothering.” She reached for Varric’s hand across the table. “Thank you for remembering. That….it means a lot.”

Varric gave her a quick smile and put his hand in hers. “Any time, Hawke.” Her grip was warm, palms and fingers calloused from her weapon.

The swift knock at the door made them both jump. Varric reluctantly let go of her hand, then stood and strode over, coin pouch in hand. After a moment, he came back with a tray laden with fruit, cheese, bread, and tiny chocolate candies. “Not the fanciest fare, I admit, but it’s what I could get sent up here on short notice and this late in the evening.”

Hawke could feel saliva pooling in her mouth.  _ When was the last time I ate? Feels like forever ago.  _ “It’s perfect. Better than the campfire fare Krem made. It wasn’t bad. But everything tastes like wood and fire, no matter how much rosemary you put in it.”

Varric groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m still recovering from my last outing with the Inquisitor.”

They fell into an easy patter of conversation, both comfortable with themselves and each other. But it was almost too easy to put aside this unspoken thing between them and just be Hawke and Varric. 

But tonight, each wanted more. They’d probably always wanted more, hungry for more than easy companionship. But life in Kirkwall had never been easy, so they’d been tested, over and over again: Bartrand and the Deep Roads; the Fade and Feynriel; the mages; the Templars; the Qunari. And even by their friends and companions.

And when you spend your life fighting and traveling and living hard (and drinking harder), when does easy companionship turn to yearning? 

_ Is there a difference for them? _

_ And was it too late? _

Hawke sat back from the remains of the meal and let her head thunk against the chair. “Maferath’s balls, I needed that.”

“I’ve always warned you about being too easy to please,” Varric teased, pouring the last of the first bottle of wine. He many more tucked away, but wasn’t intending on being drunk if he was going to broach the walls of their friendship.

She winked at him, an impish smile on her face. “All you know is I like food and wine. Most people do. How’s that pleasure?”

_ Oh sure, Hawke, just leave that wide open for me. Shit, that’s probably what she wants _ , Varric thought.  _ Motherfucker. _ The tension coiled once more, a tight spring of desire low in his gut. “This is pleasurable,” he said, gesturing at the now devoured meal and empty wine bottle. “Good food and wine with a friend. That’s definitely high up on the list of ‘things Varric likes and looks forward to’.”

The sparkle didn’t leave her eyes as Hawke leaned forward. “What else is on that list?”

Varric swallowed hard, making the corner of Hawke’s mouth quirk up almost imperceptibly. “A good fight, if the situation calls for it.”

“What else?”

_ Goddammit, Hawke. _ “I uh - “

She stood and walked over to the armchair where her black cloak lay, and swung it over her shoulders. “What about me in this cloak? Does that make your list?”

_ FUCK. _ His mouth went dry as she straightened to her full height.  _ And to think I used to argue that dwarves don’t have a height kink. _ He fought the urge to drag a hand over his face in an attempt to distract from the heat licking sparks up and down his body. He stood, proud of himself for not shaking in his boots, and approached her. “I think that makes the top of my list. Or, near the top.”

A look of baffled curiosity crossed her face. “So what’s at the top?”

He grinned, and she felt it in every fiber of her being. “You in that cloak. Naked.”


	8. Desire

Hawke was never good at taking orders. 

_So much energy_ , her mother had said with a laugh. 

_All hair and strength, but unfocused_ , her father had said, not unkindly. 

_Too headstrong_ , the captain of her regiment had barked at her over and over again. _Learn to follow, Hawke. No one in this group is a leader except me._

_Too much sympathy for the mages_ , Cullen had said; a Cullen who felt like a lifetime ago, who was still stinging from the mage tower and stuck between loyalty and chaos in Kirkwall. 

_Champion_ , Meredith had spat, too principled to laugh at the formerly dirt-poor Ferelden who had risen above her station. _Stay out of my way, you’re no use to me if you won’t obey my commands._

_He should come with us,_ Merrill had said as they’d all stared, horrified, at the mage who’d committed an act of terrorism. They’d not known the ripple effect of Anders’ actions, but they all knew it was going to be bad. _He should die_ , Sebastian had said through gritted teeth and tears as the Chantry burned. 

She had and had not listened to them, deciding a course that surely made no sense at the time. Anders had been forced to follow, forced to fight, and when Meredith had finally been put down, Hawke pulled him into an alley out of sight from the others and cut him down. Betrayal burned like the Chantry behind them.

 _I’m proud of you,_ Varric had said after she emerged from the alley. He’d known what she did, but didn’t judge her for murdering a terrorist. For ending a life that had been a part of theirs for years. A person - a _friend_ \- who had shared their victories and losses, their tables and doorways and rooms, their tankards and bottles and beds.

The only time she’d ever really listened had been when Varric had told her to get as far away from Kirkwall and the mage rebellion. _Get away from all of us, Hawke. I’m about to be hauled in by some Seeker who wants to interrogate me, and if that happens….I’ll lie through my teeth to keep you out of harm’s way._

Hawke had listened then. The circumstances were far more dire at that moment in time, but _this_ moment had a very different set of stakes.

She always did like to bet the house.

A challenge in her eyes, Hawke kicked off her boots, pushing them into a corner with her foot. Shock wrote an essay over Varric’s features, but it lasted mere seconds before melting away, leaving only need behind.

Varric couldn’t even protest with an _I didn’t mean that seriously_. He’d meant it, vehemently and fervently. 

“You have a choice,” Hawke said after a moment, a growl in her voice. She walked to him once more, eyes focused on his face. “Help. Or don’t.”

He closed the distance between them, one hand wrapping around hers just as she reached for the buttons on her tunic. “Not to look a gift druffalo in the mouth but….are you sure?”

Hawke touched his cheek with far more gentleness with which her rough warrior’s hands should have been capable. “Everyone always tells me ‘slow down, focus, think’ and the only thing I think I want right now is to kiss you.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

She leaned down, her face so close to his he could smell the wine on her breath. “And here I thought you invited me here to seduce _me_ ,” she whispered, one eyebrow raised.

“That had been the plan,” he replied, voice tight with need. “Want me to start over and get it right?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Not on your life. This is perfect.”

Hawke kissed him then, a soft slide of lips that was just over the line of chaste. But it was not the panting, pawing, slick with desperation kind of kiss one might expect from two people who had denied themselves for so long.

He was warm and smelled like leather and it was not a shock in the fucking least that he opened up to her with no hesitation. He had one hand on her bicep, the other on her waist, and he pulled her into him with gravitational force. She groaned when their bodies collided and was grateful she’d pulled all the metal and hard pieces off her body. The only thing separating them were thin layers of cloth. 

She slid her fingers into his hair to pull it loose, making him grunt in surprise. “Too much?” she whispered.

“Not enough.” His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her down. 

She acquiesced, but felt it in her lower back. _Oh sure, now I think about our height difference, not in the fun, kinky way._ “Bed. Now,” she demanded, hating the loss of him as she did so.

Varric groaned as they separated. “I’d get a stepstool but uh, yeah, you’re right.” He jerked his head over to the bed. “Way more comfortable over there.”

Hawke barked out a laugh. “A stepstool?”

He shrugged. “I’m a practical man, and I’m not getting any taller anytime soon.”

Her eyes flashed. “We could always put you in heels.” She chuckled at his impression of a gasping fish, and brushed her hand over the black fur cape, fingertips trailing over the mound of her right breast. “Am I bringing this?”

Varric groaned again. “Tease. On every level you’re a fucking tease.”

“I can do better than tease.” She winked at him. “And don’t think I’m forgetting the heels bit any time soon.”

He slashed a hand through the air. “Take it off, it’ll just get in the way.”

She did as instructed, gently setting it on a chair before following Varric over to his bed. Her heart was in her throat and she felt pulled toward him once more. Raw need - for him, his mouth, his hands, his body on hers - made her shiver.

Hand outstretched to her, Varric sat back on the bed and let her saunter to him. _Andraste’s ass, what a gorgeous woman._ And he thought he was hard before. Now, just watching her move toward him, her movements liquid and graceful and perfect...every part of him ached. She was so tall, and so strong, and he wanted to climb her like a tree.

“That’s a very _serious_ expression on the face of a man who’s about to be ruined for all others,” Hawke said, her voice like velvet rubbing inside his skull. She came to the edge of the bed and put one knee on the mattress, then slid it slowly between his thighs.

“Maferath’s balls, Hawke,” he said, head tipping back as his eyes rolled up. “Fuck.” Quick as a snake, he snapped his head up and pulled her down on top of him. She landed with a grunt, barely catching herself on her hands so she didn’t smash into him. 

In the bare space between their lips, Hawke smiled. “You feel good.” She ducked her head, tucking her nose beneath his chin, near his Adam’s apple. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “You gonna keep your hands to yourself, or do I get to sample some of that fine muscle memory?”

Varric felt her teeth scrape over the sensitive skin below his ear and he bucked against her, chasing the sensations she was sending through his body. Not one to sit idly by, he used the momentarily abatement to run clever fingers up her ribcage, avoiding the swell of her breasts. _For now._

She shuddered against him. “Gods….”

He dragged her up for another kiss, this one rather desperate, a clash of lips and tongues. He dove in, tasting her over and over again. Pushing her. Daring her to reciprocate. 

She did.

Her tongue stroked his. Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging. Varric surged against her, and those fingers, as the exquisite sensation yanking at the roots of his hair made his cock throb. “Like it rough, do you?” she whispered heavily into his ear. “Want me to toss you around a bit?”

“Not now.” He pulled back just enough to look Hawke in the eyes. “But I wasn’t lying earlier. I want you naked.”

Her other hand brushed the tent in his pants, making him hiss. “You first.”

His hands dove under her shirt, teasing at the skin below. He felt scars, many thinly raised with age and skill in stitching. Varric knew many of them, had been there for the initial injuries. And he’d known the man to sew her up, again and again, after the healing magics had faded and blood and split skin remained. The old doubt, and guilt, rose up, making him shut his eyes.

“Hey, what’s that?” she asked softly. “Do we need to stop?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” He touched the pad of his index finger to a fine, thin scar near the bottom of her ribs. “Just unwelcome memories.”

“Then we make new, welcome ones.” She rose up on her knees, towering over him. With one swift yank, she abandoned her shirt. Baring herself to him.

Varric slid out from under her and rose up as well, fingers skating back up over her sides, her ribs. Then the soft swells of her breasts. Hawke bit her lip, her blood heating at his touch. Back arched, she wrapped her hands around his. Hands bound together, they pushed her breasts in, then up, but it was Varric who thumbed her nipples. Hawke threw her head back, rapture on her face.

Varric took the moment to watch her. All the delicate lines of her, usually hidden by armor and blood and muscle, stood out in the shadows cast by the candlelight. “Hawke.”

She groaned, bringing her head up slowly to look at him. Every bit of him, from the unbound copper hair to the glinting jewelry to the crooked nose and unwavering focus ( _on her_ ), made her want him even more. “Show me,” he said softly, pinching her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her gaze darkened, but she said nothing. He did the same to her left nipple and her eyes fluttered shut.

“ _Show me_ ,” he commanded. “Show me those secret places that will make you scream.”


	9. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's porn, y'all.

“I don’t know that a vagina is a _secret_ , Varric,” Hawke replied, heat under the laughter in her voice. 

Varric sputtered a laugh as he followed her down to the mattress, propping himself up on an arm before trailing his fingers down her sternum. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I want to know about _this_ ,” he said softly as he touched the inside of her right hip, following the lines of muscle and bone.

She moaned at the contact. “Is that a secret?”

He traced a horizontal line to her left hip and touched the same spot there. “It was until a moment ago.” He watched her buck against his touch, a single fingertip making her bite her lip. “Oh, that’s good. Really good.”

“Gonna talk dirty to me, Varric?” Her gaze was molten, and it made his touch stutter just as he moved lower to the clasp on her pants. 

He swallowed thickly. “I admit I’m not the best at it.”

She flipped over him, trapping his body beneath hers. It happened so quickly Varric barely registered her movement. “I’m _very_ good at it,” she purred in his ear before biting down on his earlobe.

“Ah, fuck.” His hips crashed into hers. 

“Fuck’s a good start. I was thinking more like _I want your cock inside me_.”

His breath hissed out, his fingers clenching around her hips. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

She licked his earlobe, wiping away the sting of her teeth. “And to think we were missing this all those years.” Hawke kissed her way down his neck, across corded tendons that led to his shoulders. She felt his fingers run across her temple, making her look up. 

His eyes were half lidded, dark pupils blown wide, but he was solely focused on her. “Need you,” he whispered harshly, pulling her up and into a blistering kiss. It was open mouthed and _filthy_ and thrilled her down to her toes. 

“Not going anywhere,” she muttered as they both came up for air. Her fingers twitched, seeking contact on his body, skimming his arms and feeling the muscle beneath.

_CRASH_

Hawke shot up bolt-right, Varric following her movements at the sound of something heavy just outside the door. She moved with the fluid power of a born warrior, on her feet and grabbing her halberd just as Varric rolled off the bed and aimed Bianca at the door. 

He nodded and she flung the door wide….

Only to have Dorian and Bull stumble into the room. Dorian’s tunic was wide open and they could see a trail of bites down his neck and around one nipple. Bull’s pants were undone and barely clinging to his hips.

Varric immediately pointed his crossbow to the floor, but Hawke didn’t move, eyes roaming the pair who had crashed their love nest.

“Whoops,” Dorian said. His eyes were unfocused, hazy with lust. “We’ll just...go.”

To his credit, Bull only stared at Hawke’s tits for a few seconds, then lingered on Varric’s erection which was not at all concealed by his pants. “Nice, you two!” he said, voice echoing through the room. “Shit, Dorian said this was his room.”

Varric huffed, agitation growing every second they were in the way. “Yours is in the next tower over, Sparkler.” His gaze narrowed. “Too much to drink?”

“Not enough,” Dorian said as he pushed Bull from the room. “In my defense, all these towers look the same when it’s pitch black out.”

“So you don’t crash into anyone else’s evening,” Hawke said, barely containing a laugh as she handed Dorian a candelabra from the table. “And don’t you have magic?”

“Spoils the fun, having to keep a spell going while your clothing’s being ripped off your body,” he shot back. 

“Told you,” Bull said to Hawke, chortling, as Dorian shoved him out the door.

Hawke didn’t waste any time throwing the bolt on the door as soon as they left. “Probably should have done that to begin with,” she said, turning back to Varric, her grin wide. “But damn. Remind me to file that away later.”

Despite his frustration, Varric laughed. It started as a chuckle but soon he was bent over, hands on his knees, red-faced and spluttering. And Hawke joined him, leaning against the wall, blade at her side and reflecting the candlelight. 

That deadly blade Varric had seen her use to cut down countless enemies, that close to her bared skin….something twitched low in Varric’s gut. Something even he wasn’t fully aware of, the _why_. He watched her stow the blade in its spot in the corner, her muscles shifting as she hefted the weapon like it weighed nothing.

The interruption may have broken their first moment, but Varric was a writer. He was used to multiple drafts of a story. “Come here,” he said. “They let in the cold.”

That made her push away from the wall. She did as he asked, but he could feel her stalking him. Calculating the steps to him, eyes never wavering. A thrill went through him and he ached to loosen his pants. But not until he had her where he wanted her.

The long, lean lines of her body begged for him to touch and caress, to lick and suck his way across every inch of her skin. To take from her what she was willing to give, and ask only the same in return.

“The cold, eh?” She grinned, teeth bright in the flickering shadows of the room. Hawke trailed her fingers across and down her neck, over her collarbone. Down to circle around her left nipple. “So cold. Lucky me there’s a roaring fire.”

“Lucky,” he echoed, enraptured by the sight before him. 

“Are you going to fuck me on that beautiful rug in front of the fireplace?” she asked as she leaned in, lips brushing over his ear. 

“Yes,” he said, voice far more steady than he felt. 

“So direct, Master Tethras,” she teased, leading him by the hand to the rug. They kneeled on the rug, white fur plush beneath them. Varric made a move to climb over her but she stopped him with a hand on his chest, fingers skimming over the trail of hair between his pectorals. “Let me.”

With feline grace, she climbed over him, knees on the outside of his thighs. With no preamble, she kissed her way down his chest, revelling in the warmth and scent of his skin. “Ah, fuck, Hawke,” he growled, bucking beneath her as she nipped along his side, leaving little sucking marks below his ribs. 

Hawke felt him try to sit up, but she pushed him back down with a firm hand. “I’m not done,” she said, looking up briefly to grin at his frustrated groan. “Gotta get these pants off.”

“I can-”

“ _No_ ,” she said before mouthing at the laces in his pants, fingers working to help undo what she couldn’t with her teeth.

Varric bucked again, only barely mindful of her chin so near his cock. She put her hands on his hips to steady him with a hushed, “Easy, easy. We’ll get there.”

With painstaking slowness, Hawke undid the laces on his pants, relieving the pressure on his aching cock. Varric gripped the rug, his fingers digging into the fur, clenching and unclenching. It was exquisite torture, her mouth so near he could feel the heat of her breath on his oversensitized skin.

With a final pull, the flap of his breeches opened and while Hawke distracted him by smoothing the skin on his hips, her mouth descended.

The hollow of her mouth on his cock was warm, wet, and perfect. Like time had slowed, he watched her eyes flutter shut right before she pulled him in deeper. His head dropped back and he groaned loudly. Her hands kept him from thrusting too much, or too deeply into her mouth. She controlled the pace with a firm grip and the rhythm of her head and Varric wanted it. Gods, did he _want_ her to hold him, control him, show him.

He was warm all over, skin burning beneath her hands and mouth. But he was silky soft on her tongue, only the tiniest bit of bitter salt as she sucked. He was perfect, every little shudder and moan fueling her desire, forcing her to focus on him instead of rolling over to simply take from him. 

Hawke dipped her tongue into his slit and he cursed a blue streak. “Fuck, Hawke, fuck!” he cried out, hips chasing the sensation of her tongue. 

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, feeling him quiver beneath her hands. “Don’t want to end things too early,” she said hoarsely, and licked her lips, loving the taste of him there.

Varric let out a shaky breath and pushed his hair out of his face. “Not gonna lie, I was close.”

“I know.” She gave his balls a playful squeeze before licking her lips again. “I could taste it.”

“Goddammit.” He lunged for her, hands and mouth and body hungry, yearning. She let him pull her down onto the rug, her body cushioned by the fur and warmed by the fire and his touch. 

In her, he sought salvation, and he mapped her body with his hands, and followed those touches with his lips and tongue. He tasted her skin, her sweat, and her power, dizzy from the smell of her. “Please,” she begged, guiding his hands to her trousers. “Take me.”

Varric slid up her body in one smooth motion, yanking her into a searing kiss. “Anything you want,” he murmured against her lips. “Anything.”

She pulled him into another kiss, mouth hungry for his. Together, they pushed her pants down, then his. The fire warmed them, but it was no match for their heat in their blood, hot with need and desire and yearning.

“Please,” she said softly, guiding him up her body to nestle between her thighs. Hawke felt his erection, warm and heavy, and expected to feel that weight inside her. But Varric ran a finger over her folds, testing their softness.

“Oh my _gods_ ,” Hawke said, voice suddenly thin. Her legs fell open and she put a hand on his wrist. “Trust me, I’m ready.”

He held up the finger that had brushed against her, seeing her wetness linger on his fingertip. “I knew you’d be soft there,” he replied. “I wanted to feel it.”

“Would rather feel you inside me,” she said hotly.

He chuckled at her impatience, but couldn’t blame her. He felt too hot for his own skin, his nerves alight with pleasure as his gaze raked over her beautiful, powerful body beneath him. Varric kissed her once more, licking inside her mouth, imagining what he could do to her folds with his tongue. _Next time_ , he thought as together they guided him inside her.


	10. Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story is quickly coming to a close. Love never lets me down.
> 
> Video/soundtrack recommendation for these final few chapters: Jamie Cullum - Live @ Home Full Show: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb6Y1Zy3pvc

Hawke awoke to find Varric curled up behind her, one arm flung over her waist while the other was jabbing her in between the shoulder blades. She smiled - after a few hours of truly mindblowing sex, they’d collapsed onto Varric’s bed sweaty and sated. He fell asleep quickly, hands and arms on her, body pressed to his, as if he never wanted to let go. But Hawke had lain awake for a while, staring at the ceiling as it flickered with gasping shadows. 

As the last candle sputtered and died, she’d sighed and looked down at the beautiful man next to her.  _ How the fuck did I get so lucky? _

Now, she shifted away from him very gently, trying to ease that elbow out of her back without waking him. His arm dropped to the mattress and he mumbled something she couldn’t make out. Trying not to laugh at the way he snuggled into her pillows, the sheets leaving crease marks on his rugged face, she stood and stretched, then headed to the bath. Ensconced behind a divider of deep chestnut wood was a copper tub and several empty buckets.  _ One of the few times I wish I was a mage, I’d just conjure up hot water and be done with it _ , she thought as she turned away to face the bedroom once more.

Then Hawke grinned. She did, however, know a mage who owed her.

* * *

The rapping at his door made Dorian sit upright in bed, heart hammering. The sound didn’t seem to bother Bull, who snored contentedly beside him. “ _ Fasta vass _ ,” he grumbled as he pulled on a silk robe that had  _ somehow _ made its way into the corner. It was hopelessly crumpled and Dorian looked around for the belt, only to come up empty handed.

_ Was that the belt that broke? Maferath’s balls, if Bull broke the belt to my favorite robe….. _

Holding the robe closed, he yanked open the door. “What is it?”

Hawke was leaning against the stone wall just outside his room, grinning like a fiend.  _ If fiends grin, that is _ , he thought ruefully. “This had better be good.”

The grin grew wider. “Oh, it is. I want the candelabra back.”

Dorian stared, agog. “You what?”

She pointed behind him. “The candelabra. And it better be in the shape I loaned it, or Varric’s going to be pissed. It’s his favorite.”

Dorian gaped a bit more before he started to close the door. “Well, then he’ll have to wait until lunch, because I’m not setting foot outside until -”

Hawke jammed her foot in the door, her grin breaking as she laughed. Dorian shushed her and pulled his robe tighter as the wind kicked up. “I’m fucking with you.” She peered behind him again at Bull starfished on the bed. “Or rather…”

“Well, if you’ve had your fill of staring, I’m going back to bed,” he grumbled. “Or did you actually want something?”

“You. Owe. Me.” she said, towering over him.  _ Maker’s breath, when did she get so tall? _ “I mean, I get it, all wrapped up in all that muscle and those big hands. But I’m turning in that favor now.”

Dorian sighed. Technically she was right, they  _ had _ barged in on what had looked like quite the fun time. He was no expert on female anatomy but even he could appreciate that Varric had quite the...handful at his disposal and neither party was happy about being interrupted. “Fine. But make it quick, I don’t want him to think I left.”

Hawke arched an eyebrow at that and started to speak, but was interrupted by a voice more akin to rocks in a barrel. “ ‘S fine, Dorian. Just come back when you’re done with whatever Hawke wants.”

“And there we go.” She smiled. “I suggest something more sturdy than a robe. I’ll wait out here.”

Muttering, Dorian slammed the door shut as Hawke laughed. Minutes later he emerged, properly dressed for the trek over to the next tower. Hawke pointed toward Varric’s room and they trudged through the late night darkness, the rain having subsided into a blustery wind that carried the promise of spring. 

Hawke eased the door open and peered inside. Varric was still asleep, in the same spot she’d left him minutes ago. She closed the door against the wind and turned toward Dorian. “How quickly can you fill a tub with hot water?”

Dorian smacked his forehead. “You could have asked for feats of magical prowess, or fashion advice, or fifty tips on how to please your lover. And you want a tub filled.”

Hawke put a hand on his shoulder. “Or I can keep the favor and call it in during an even more….shall we say inopportune time?”

Dorian snorted, but couldn’t keep the small smile off his face. “Now I realize what Varric sees in you. You’re both highly manipulative.”

“And you’re not?”

He put a hand to his chest. “Yes, but at least I’m upfront about it.” He sighed. “One filled tub, coming up.”

Hawke slapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “Good man.”

* * *

Varric knew Hawke had left as soon as she’d rolled out of bed, and had a sneaking suspicion she was going to see a mage about a tub. But he didn’t want to ruin her surprise, so while she and Dorian were fairly quiet while filling the tub to the brim, he snuffled a few times and moved a bit, just to keep them on edge.

Once Dorian was gone, he cracked one eye open at the sound of a vial being opened. Hawke was behind the screen divider so he couldn’t see what she was doing. But soon the smell of lavender and apple blossoms filled the air, so he rustled around a bit more and called out softly, “Hawke?”

“Yeah, back here.” There was a soft slide of clothing and Varric saw her pants, then her shirt, sail over the divider. Her head appeared around the corner and she smiled when she saw him sitting up. “I know you were faking. You have never  _ ever _ slept that soundly.”

“Caught me.” He stood and stretched, then walked around the divider. He was gloriously naked, but so was she as she stepped into the near-boiling tub of scented water. Apple blossom petals floated on the surface, lazily drifting across the ripples she made with her foot. “I can’t believe you got Dorian to do that.”

She hissed as she put in her other foot. “I think he got a tiny bit of payback. Fuck that’s hot.”

Varric cast a long, yearning look at her, watching her skin turn pink from the heat. But the look of relief on her face was practically orgasmic.  _ The wine I had with Dorian was good. I revise my previous statements. _

_ Also, Hawke-induced orgasms have actually ruined me forever. _

Varric slipped into the tub and into Hawke’s waiting arms. He pressed his back to her chest and sighed. “You did this for me.”

“What? No. I did this because we fell asleep sticky and you smell.” Her words were serious but the laughter in her voice gave her away. “Plus who doesn’t love a scented bath?”

“Hmm, well I’m just happy to be the recipient of your selfishness.” Hawke snorted, pulling him closer. “Ah, Hawke, this is fantastic.”

She poked him in the shoulder. “Good. You don’t take time for yourself enough, Varric. And now that I’m here you will.”

“Oh please Serrah Hawke….” He turned to face her, eyes alight with mischief. “Please keep me in line.”

“Are we playing a game? I  _ love _ games,” she said, leaning forward to card her fingers through his hair. “Should we talk about our favorites?”

Varric’s grin widened, the expression almost feral. “How about the one where the strong, beautiful, amazing warrior woman bosses the mouthy dwarf storyteller around?”

“Oh, a game I haven’t played yet,” she purred, learning back on. “But I’d love to.”

He rose up on his knees and steadied himself on the edges of the tub. Water dripped off his arms and chest and he pushed his hair back with wet hands. Hawke groaned, letting her head fall back against the tub. “Will you tell me what do?” he said, voice thick. His cock was already stirring, watching her react to the sight of him naked, wet, and willing to do whatever she asked.

Slowly she brought her head back up and crooked a finger at him. “Kiss me.”

Water sloshed onto the floor as he crawled to her. Varric placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on her chest and from the corner of his eye he saw her fingers turn into claws as she gripped the tub’s edge. He cupped her breasts with his hands, thumbs tracing her peaked nipples, making her hiss and buck against him. “Kiss me,” she said again.

He trailed his lips up her neck, across her cheek, and then hovered over her mouth. “Anything you want.”

* * *

“Ah, Varric, good. We’re headed out to Emprise du Lion and I’d like you to join us.” The Inquisitor smiled down at Varric and his table of scattered notes and half-empty ink pots. “Apologies. Did I come at a bad time?”

“Not at all. Just trying to write a few letters to some friends.” Varric put down his quill and motioned to the empty chair across the table. “Isn’t Emprise du Lion bitterly cold and full of Red Templars?”

Henrik leaned forward to examine one of the ink pots. “You are correct. And it’s also home to several red lyrium deposits, so I thought you’d want to come along.”

Varric’s natural response would be in the affirmative, but going with the Inquisitor meant leaving Hawke. And he was loath to do so.

Henrik must have seen the hesitation on Varric’s face. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, especially since you and Hawke just….reunited. But the mission….”

“Is top priority. I know.” Varric leaned back in his chair and frowned. “Gotta admit Inquisitor, the fate of the world is something we all bear, being here in Skyhold.” He glanced down at his hands, willing the words to form so he could spit them out. “But I left Hawke once. I don’t want to do it again.”

Henrik was silent for a long moment and just as Varric felt like squirming in his chair under the steady gaze of the human man, Henrik said softly, “I understand. It feels like every day brings a new challenge, a new hurdle to jump over. New dangers, new enemies. Part of my responsibility is to ensure those who stay steadfast have the chance to start over, once this is all over.” He smiled softly. “I think your chance came a little early, and you’re all the more lucky for it.”

Varric blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I’m not trying to be obstinate, Inquisitor. I just...we already lost so much time.”

Henrik held up a hand. “I understand. Truly.” He leaned, tone conspiratorial. “Why do you think I take Cassandra with me everywhere?”

“Ha. I knew it. Good for you two.” Varric motioned to his messy table. “If you’ll allow me, I want to keep working with Leliana. She’s in need of more contacts in Orzammar and if we play our cards right, I think we can get troops, gold, and supplies. Plus maybe a few dozen dwarven scouts.”

Henrik slapped the arm of his chair, a grin breaking over his face. “That’s excellent! And it’s good work. So I revise my first statement - keep doing what you’re up to with Leliana and make sure to turn reports in to Cullen. I believe in what you’re doing and I know what you come up with will truly benefit the Inquisition.” The grin turned sly. “And I’ll let you know what we find in the Emprise.”

Varric nodded, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. “Thank you. I...I need to be here. Not permanently but -”

“Say no more.” Henrik stood and clapped a hand on Varric’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

When Henrik left with a stack of new reports and a bottle of Varric’s favorite ink, Varric leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath. “I need to tell Hawke.”


	11. Promise

On the eve of battle, a nervous energy suffused the air. Hawke circled around the Herald’s Rest, expecting to see it packed to the brim. Instead, it was shuttered and dark and as she looked around, she realized the courtyard was empty save a few people walking across it to destinations unknown. 

Skyhold was eerily silent save for the random cawing from Leliana’s birds. Hawke took the stairs of the main tower two at a time, coming to rest on the landing. She peered out to the stableyard and...there was the activity she was expecting. Recently the stables had been expanded and new barracks attached. Soldiers, every one decked out in the finest gear the Inquisition had, were forming small groups to listen to Commander Cullen as he barked out orders. 

Hawke couldn’t make out his exact words, but she recognized the tone, the stance. Not just from Cullen, but from all of them. They were prepared for war, and they knew it was going to be ugly. The entire drawn-out fight with Corypheus (which had arguably taken a lot longer than it should have, but that was a matter of scholarly debate at this point) had worn down wills and souls to nubs, like shoes in desperate need of resoling and the snow and rain just kept getting in.

She rolled her shoulders, feeling tightness everywhere. “Maybe I’ll get to hit the fucker,” she muttered.

“Hope you’re talking about Corypheus,” Varric said as he came down the stairs to stand beside her.

She grinned fiercely. “Who else?”

“He needs a good pommel to the head, and then everyone should get their licks in before the Inquisitor ends him for good.”

They watched Cullen move troops about, watched Leliana and Cassandra walk by in the distance, reports being passed between them. 

Hawke reached for his hand. “And after the Inquisitor cleans all this up?”

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” he said, hand in hers as he turned to look at her. “Still thinking about going to Weisshaupt after this?”

She grimaced. “I know that was before….us.”

“I was thinking I might go with you.”

Hawke blinked. Once. Twice. “Wha - are you sure?”

Varric squeezed her hand. “Yeah, really sure.” He drew her close with his other hand pressing in the small of her back. “Not about to get separated from you any time soon. That’s a promise.”


End file.
